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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350764">Haircut</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma'>kidcarma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Compulsions, Gen, Jabberwock Island (Dangan Ronpa), Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, minor injury/blood, vent - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata realizes that he's due for a haircut.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Hajime &amp; Soda Kazuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Haircut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi this is just a vent ive been having a bit of a tough time lately so im projecting my issues onto hinata. also yes this is the second time i posted this bc i deleted it in my panic the first time oops</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A lot of things come with waking up the way he did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s getting too long.  </em>
</p><p>Hinata swallows thickly, blinking as he refocuses, coming back into the conversation. But already it feels so forced, so wrong, like he’s cramming his mind into the corners of a box that’s just too small, of a shirt whose seams are just a little too tight, filling a space that isn’t the right shape for him but where he still manages to fit nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“- so the shipment isn’t going to come in for another week or two but I’d still really like to work on it. Do you think you can rig something with the parts we have on the island?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Huh? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps he hadn’t really been paying attention. His mind seems to wander these days more than not, so it’s more common of an occurrence than he’d like to admit, but Hinata can at least still realize that it makes for bad company so he shakes his head to clear the fuzziness. Souda had been asking him for help on some project. Right.</p><p>“Well, I mean-” Hinata starts to fill the silence before Souda can put the pieces together, that Hinata hadn’t been paying attention- admittedly the puzzle there is very small, but Souda is much too invested in getting Hinata’s advice for approval to even notice there’s a jigsaw in front of him- Right. He has to answer the question. Something about… not having the right parts? Hinata’s not even sure what the project is or what parts it would require but he can’t admit he hasn’t been listening, and he’s made it this far relying on what Kamukura left for him, so he nods nonchalantly. </p><p>“Sure. I could probably make something work.”<br/><br/>“Really?” Souda lights up. “Thanks bro, you’re the best!”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.”</p><p>Hinata really hopes he can make something work. He should be able to in theory. Even if it requires a few roundabout steps, but those are childsplay now, as much as he hates it. Finding the difficult to be easy. Finding the intriguing to be </p><p>
  <em> Boring. It’s getting too long.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Huh?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s getting too long.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“- can stop by later today if you want! It might be easier to understand if you can actually see it but-”</p><p><em> It’s getting too long </em> . <em> It’s heavy. </em></p><p>Hinata flinches. <br/>His hand finds itself on the back of his neck, rubbing the skin at the nape anxiously as Souda rambles on, twists into the downy hairs there and tugs and tugs <em> and tugs </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s getting too long. It’s heavy. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His head feels weighed down. His shoulders hurt. He’s sweating.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry-” Hinata cuts Souda off and he doesn’t even seem to mind which strikes another pang of guilt right through him but <em> it’s getting too long and it’s heavy and </em>“I just remembered I have something I need to get done. I’ll come by later and you can tell me more about it, okay?”</p><p>“Okay!”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Hinata turns on his heel and leaves.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s getting too long. It’s heavy. It’s- </em>
</p><p>He’s tangled his whole hand into the hair on the back of his head now, taking the restaurant stairs two at a time, crossing the ground as he hunches over, eyes wide and not even registering where he’s going.</p><p><em> It’s getting too long. When had he let it grow out like this? Why hadn’t the others said anything? Did they even notice? They had to have noticed. It’s so obvious </em>. It feels so heavy, pulling him down and when Hinata’s hand slips higher, pads of his fingers brushing against the ghost of his scars, he flinches again, head jerking on impulse and pulling a muscle in his neck as he continues to walk. </p><p><em> Maybe they like it better when it’s long. Maybe they like him better. They like me better when I’m him. </em> The notion is silly, Hinata reminds himself as he picks absentmindedly at the scar. He’d been an asshole then. A self-centered, egotistical <em> genius. It’s getting too long. When had his scar started to itch?  </em></p><p>He frowns, scratching at the raised, ugly mar which is hidden by his hair <em> which is getting too long. </em>Traces it right to left then back again, digging his fingernail into a spot that’s particularly bothersome. He’s glad nobody else can see it. </p><p>He’s approaching the door to his cabin when he realizes that at some point during the walk, both hands have ended up pressed against his scalp, tugging and poking and prodding, so he pulls one away, reaching down to turn the doorknob, when he sees the layer of blood coating the underside of his nails, and the pads of his digits. </p><p>
  <em> Shit.  </em>
</p><p>It hadn’t even hurt. When had he started bleeding?</p><p><em> It’s fine, </em> he tells himself, pacing into the cabin and shutting the door behind himself. It’s fine because he can just take a shower <em> right after he cuts his hair. It’s getting too long. </em></p><p>Right. Right. Scissors. Where does he keep the scissors?</p><p>They’re in the junk drawer in his desk and Hinata grimaces as he smears blood onto the handle but <em> it’s fine </em> because he can wash them off later. <br/>The bathroom light is shoddy at best but it doesn’t even matter because he can do this by touch, his hands seeking out the strands that feel too long, pinching and tugging and cutting and pulling and pinching and tugging and cutting and pulling and pinching and tugging and cutting and pulling and</p><p>Until his sink is a mess of discarded hair, porcelain littered with clumps of ugly brown strands, a pair of scissors smeared with blood chucked on top but <em> it’s fine </em>because messes are easy to clean up. He sweeps the hair into the trash can, looks at it guiltily, embarrassed, so he washes his hands and uses paper towels to dry his hands and throws them on top of the hair to hide the evidence, turns back to the mirror and frowns as he realizes</p><p>
  <em>It’s too short. I cut it too short.</em>
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